Hard Rime
by sialark2
Summary: As ice thaws, it can break. Fissures and cracks, jagged edges—they can cut you open, or leave you exposed. But melted ice can rekindle life. It just needs time, and warmth….


_A/N:_

 _This fic has been months and months and_ months _in the making! But thanks to the ever-lasting encouragement of the lovely LilacsBloom, I finally finished it! (And thank you Lilac, for pre-reading too!) I'm quite happy with it. I hope you enjoy it! ;)_

 _Rated M for language and sexual themes._

 **Hard Rime**

The look on her face had been the worst. Even unarmed as she had been, if Jane hadn't stepped in when she had, there was no telling what they'd have done to the girl. No, she took that back. She _knew_ what those scumbags were going to do. Jane had promised herself that she'd never let anything so god-awful happen to the two of them, but she almost wasn't able to protect her sister from those _filthy_ , _**handsy**_ bandits. But now, she was gone…and now, Jane had just robbed someone herself…

What would Jaime have said? What the fuck was Jane _doing_ , stealing just to help this idiotic group she barely even _knew?_

It had just happened so fast…

* * *

He had just been a boy. A boy with a fucked-up leg, a boy with broken glasses. A boy who had clearly been down on his luck, and had been doing his best to make his way through the waist-high piles of shit that everyone had to trudge through these days…And she may as well have just pushed him face-down into said _shit._

"Is it safe to let him go?"

Jane had spied Clem out of the corner of her eye, a steely grimace on the woman's face as she'd turned back to the boy whose head she'd had a gun to, eyes calculating what to do…at this point, there was only one thing _to_ do.

 _Scare him off._

"Don't you EVER come around here again. I don't care if you do have some sick sister. The next time I see you," she had slammed the petrified teen against the balcony rail harshly, "you won't just be walking away." She had thrown him away from them like a supposed piece of trash, the bespectacled boy quickly catching his balance, trembling like a leaf. "Go," she snarled.

The kid had wasted no time in heeding her warning. Shaking, Arvo limped towards his bag and retrieved it, making his way back towards the stairs as Jane had crossed her arms, gun still in hand. But as soon as he'd left, she let that weapon drop like a sickly dead weight; she couldn't get rid of it fast enough. The woman turned and leaned on that balcony for support, trying to hold the memories at bay.

 _She'd threatened others before._

She couldn't stop thinking how, if it'd just been her and no Clem and no group, Jane could've just avoided the boy, and none of this would've happened. But she had to keep him away from the group _somehow_ …

"I can't believe I've gotten into this mess," she muttered, shoulders sagging under that old invisible weight again, that weight that she swore to god was just getting heavier..."Threatening some stupid kid…"

There was only one other kid she had threatened before—

' _Jaime, I swear to fucking god if you don't get up, I'll, I'll just—_ _ **leave!**_ _' her voice cracked on the last word, panicked desperation straining her throat._

 _But there was no change in the sitting girl's deadened eyes—eyes that seemed to have lost their life long ago—_

She couldn't take it. The burning in Jane's eyes came unbidden, though she had cursed it off long ago. Thank god she was facing away from Clementine. She wiped the damned things away hastily; hopefully the kid hadn't been able to tell.

…Ah _fuck_ , the kid. Did _Clementine_ —the one person Jane actually liked here—think Jane to be as terrible as she had just acted in front of the foreign kid? Jane half-turned to catch a glimpse of the girl, and caught Clem just looking up at her, with a slightly confused and concerned expression on her face…and there may have been something that looked like _disgust_ there too. Jane turned back to the stream quickly _. Fuck_.

"…We should go get everyone else," Clem tried, clearly unsure of what to make of Jane's behavior.

"Yeah…" _Everyone else._ Right. _"Everyone else"_ was the reason why she had so strongly advocated to steal the meds from the chickenshit teenager in the first place. A pregnant woman, already in labor…a hot-headed ass who'd lost his eye, letting his emotions control him…a simple southern boy beaten by Carver…why the hell hadn't she left this group already?

She finally made up her mind, then and there. _No_. Goddammit, no. She couldn't get attached again, to the point of making decisions compromising what little of herself she had left. She didn't want to get attached to people, only to lose them again. Not to some baby destined to die, not to the bumbling Luke who couldn't even shoot a psychopath, and _definitely_ not to Clementine. It just couldn't be done, no matter how much Jane might have wanted it…

' _Well. It's sometimes good to have someone watching your back.'_

To be fair, Jane had been trying it out. Testing the waters. Offering Clementine the tools she needed to make it. And for Clem—for that kid to have a fighting chance—she needed someone other than these clowns to survive…But Jane couldn't do it. She could do a lot of things, but she couldn't do _this_. For now, she just had to keep moving forward, and moving forward meant moving…away, from the rest. And with that, she finally turned around completely.

"Go get the others." This time Jane's voice broke clearly, as she made her way away from Clem, one hand hiding her face from the girl, the other arm hugging herself. But it was time to get back to work. She just had to finish this shit and get the fuck out of here, and then this'd just be a bad dream. "I'm going to get this place open and then we need to get moved in ASAP." ' _We_ ,' right, hmph. Jane corrected herself—there was no ' _we'_ anymore. She crouched down at the gift shop door, getting back to work with her stoic façade back safely in place. The woman could feel Clem's hesitant eyes on her, but she refused to turn around. Instead she heard first an uncertain step, a pause, and then several small footsteps descending the stairs.

 _Goddammit_.

* * *

As she listened to Clem's footsteps recede, Jane sighed. She continued her work with the nail file and the lock, but her mind wandered back to those familiar thoughts that loved to prey on her, never leaving, like some merciless shadow…

She had been trying. She had been trying to forget Jaime, and for a little while she had succeeded…if you can call forgetting your little sister " _succeeding_ " at anything. It had been months since Jane had left her behind on that rooftop, out of ideas and too scared to stay and go down with the ship with her sister still on board. But god damn, Jane had tried _so damn hard_ to get her to move, but it just _hadn't_ …

Well, Jane was a coward at heart really. That was all there was to it...But _no_ , Jane'd _had_ to do what she'd had to to survive…There was no point in beating herself up over this. There was no point in thinking about this again.

But she couldn't not think of it. Not when two more girls—one so similar to Jaime and one so different—had suddenly stepped into her life. Like Clem? That kid was tough as steel for her age. She actually reminded Jane a lot of herself when she was younger, and in a good way too. Clem'd had that spark in her to keep going—to keep fighting to _live,_ no matter what horrors were thrown at had just, _lost_ that…

And then there was Sarah…where did she start? The girl barely said a word. That is, until her father had been killed right in front of her and she'd fallen apart into a blubbering mess, putting _everyone_ at risk. Jane supposed she shouldn't be so hard on her though, as losing your dad in such a way is definitely hard…Jaime certainly hadn't been the same since _her_ dad… _ugh_ …

But still. Sarah's reaction had _not_ helped matters. Screaming bloody murder in the middle of a herd? Drawing more walkers towards Sarah _and_ Clementine, who certainly didn't deserve to die like that? And then she—she froze up in that trailer, when the walkers were…were closing in, and _they_ had…had to come to help _her?_ Jane grasped the lock and twisted the nail file into it _hard_ , knuckles turning white as she clamped her eyes shut, attempting to block the scene out, but it still came back, unbidden. She could still see the blank look of despondency on Sarah's face, the same exact look that had been on Jaime's face…It had been Jaime all over again, and there was just nothing she could do...

…Except there _had_ been something. _Clem_ had been able to do something. That little eleven-year-old had been able to talk Sarah out of it, had been able to get her to get _up_ and get _moving_ again, long after Jane had given up, long after Jane had deemed it impossible, and deemed Sarah a lost cause…

And it just drove home further—like a stake being driven further through Jane's heart—the possibility that Jaime _could've_ been saved. Maybe if Jane had stayed a moment longer, if she had just said the right words somehow, if Jane had been nicer somehow, if she had done _something_ more! Then maybe, maybe Jaime wouldn't have avoided Jane's face, the teenaged girl just staring at the ground like the soon-to-be-walker she'd become, joining their ranks as her eyes, once a beautiful hazel, had over those months lost their color and any emotion she might have had left…

' _You can't let it eat away at you.'_

Those were the words she'd said to Luke, but she knew she didn't practice what she preached. Ha. She was such a _fucking_ _**hypocrite**_.

' _Well…I can't forget it.'_

It was _her_ _fault_. It was just plain, one hundred percent completely _her fault_ with nowhere else to put the blame, and there was absolutely _NOTHING_ she could do about it now—

"Shit!"

The expletive escaped her lips before she'd even realized what had happened. In her loss of concentration, her hand had awkwardly slipped straight onto the file's edge, and she'd been rewarded with small beads of ruby blooming through her skin.

"God _dammit_."

"Hey, you okay?"

Jane whirled around. Son of a bitch.

* * *

It was Luke.

Of _all_ the times she had to not be alone, he had to choose _now_ to come find her.

"It's nothing," she replied rigidly, hastily turning back to the lock, as he made his way up the rest of the stairs, AK-47 in hand. She made sure to arrange her features so as to pretend that everything was fine. Even though that sure as hell wasn't the case.

"Didn't sound like nothin' to me," he replied. Jane froze. There was concern, and something _else_ in his voice. Shit _,_ what exactly had he heard? She glared at the lock, hardening. _Cover it up._

"Well that's all it was." She continued on, doing her best to work the nail file in the lock, hoping her voice wasn't betraying anything, and hoping to get the delicate work done as quickly as possible and to _pick_ the damn thing already, so Luke would just leave her alone. She'd picked locks a few times before…

But she hadn't gotten much further before she realized that he was hovering over her shoulder, just kinda… _staring_ at her. She stopped.

"What?" she snapped, chancing a glance over her shoulder at him.

Luke was caught off guard by her bluntness. "Oh. U-um, uh," he stammered, a true master of conversation. He cleared his throat. "Well, you're uh… _bleedin'_ ," he said feebly. Oh Jesus. Was he going to faint now or something? Well at least that would get him out of her hair. Sort of, anyway.

"…And?"

"…Um. Well, I think Bonnie mighta said she had some bandages from Howe's, or somethin'?" he offered.

"It's just a scratch," she muttered, turning back to the lock. That was partly true. It did sting a bit, and it was still bleeding just a tad, but it wasn't that bad.

"Here, lemme see."

He rested the gun against the wall, and came over to kneel down beside her, uninvited. Luke went to reach for her hand, but she smacked his meddling fingers away.

"Hey! Don't be like that. Y'know back on my dad's farm, I used to help out animals all the time when they got sick or injured," he assured her. Or at least, he tried to assure her.

"Are you comparing me to a farm animal?"

"Yes—I mean, n-no!" he grimaced, distraught. "Bad example…but now c' _mon_ , just hold out yer hand for me to see, at the very least?"

Jane gave him a full-faced death glare, but figured it'd be faster just to cooperate with this clown and get it over with than to resist. Chivalry wasn't dead, it seemed. Rather the entire _world's_ worth of chivalry was present in the dude before her, in irritatingly excessive amounts. But whatever. She held out her cut hand huffily…but now, to her horror, Luke was looking at her face instead. Her arm forgotten, Jane looked everywhere but at the farm boy, starting to feel like a cornered (farm) animal under his gaze.

"Hey, are ya sure you're all right?" he asked cautiously. _Shit._ He must've noticed how her eyes must have been red or some shit. _Fuck._

"I keep telling you; I'm fine," she repeated, turning away from him as her mask faltered. Oh god, she _really_ didn't need this right now…

He didn't say anything for a second. She could feel his unease, even as she desperately avoided his eyes, her own gaze and hands back on the lock and file. What she wouldn't give to just close her eyes and take a couple deep breaths right now, but with him right there that wasn't quite possible. Instead, she felt her brows lower so severely that she felt a minor headache coming on.

"Well," he said finally, "maybe Bonnie has those bandages…I can go check."

"You don't have to waste your group's supplies on me," she murmured quietly. "There's no need for that. But feel _free_ to leave; I'm trying to work here," she said with as much venom as she could muster.

But he didn't budge as the seconds passed, her fingers fumbling on the lock in the silence.

"…Do ya want some help with the lock?"

Jane stopped again.

She squinted at him uneasily for just a second, sizing the guy up, before returning her attention to the lock and pondering her findings. He had been looking at her hopefully, but warily too. She didn't want to take the chance that he'd pry, but at the same time, she could really use the help. Jane glanced at him again. There was the same, slightly eager face, looking at her almost like a puppy dog. Ugh. _Well, what the hell,_ she thought, shaking her head. She hoped she wouldn't regret this.

"Fine," she said. "As long as you keep your mouth shut and let me concentrate."

"Great!"

She raised her eyebrows at him, unimpressed. "Ahem, I mean…what can I do?" he asked sheepishly, quick to cover his gusto.

Jane turned back to the task at hand, glad the focus was no longer on her. "Hold the padlock still while I try to work through this. But be careful; I think I've gotten a good amount of it, damn…"

"Gotcha," he replied eagerly, his hands gingerly taking hold of the lock, freeing Jane's. "Though y'know, if you're tired _, I_ could try, while you—" Luke cut himself off abruptly at the ' _Stop.'_ look on her face. "Ah, right…I'll just…hold this…"

And so he did, while she kept at it.

It was arduous work, but it moved fairly quickly. She was getting through the lock pretty fast now, mostly thanks to the golden boy's help, though she'd never admit it. He was actually surprisingly quite helpful when he wasn't tripping over his own gallantry. Not to mention the shared silence between them was nice, and…peaceful. Their hands on the lock weren't touching, but she could feel the warmth coming from his fingers, despite the weather-chilled lock that was making her fingers start to feel numb….They were close enough to each other too that Jane could still see the bruises from when she'd watched Carver beat his ass, some of the ones on his face now turning a motley gray-green beneath his stubble and what passed as his ridiculous-looking moustache; she could hear too his slightly labored breathing due to his messed-up ribs. _Damn_ , she wished they had some pain meds…though preferably not stolen ones…She internally sighed. All the more reason to break through this damn thing faster.

She had gotten through most of the mechanism now; she could feel it. Only a little more to go, but it was being stubborn. Maybe if she had a different tool…but then a _different_ kind of "tool" then indeed spoke up.

"So, how are you uh, holdin' up?"

Jane paused, brows knitted, but hands still locked in position to preserve the work she'd achieved so far. She looked up from her toil to catch him looking at her kindly yet apprehensively. Jesus. Why did this dude have to keep ruining things by opening his mouth. She didn't want to talk about how she was _"holdin' up"_ or how she was _"doing."_ Like anyone gave a straight answer to that kind of question these days anyway. Though, she reminded herself, he was really the only person who had even asked, besides Clem….

"Great."

His lips pressed into a line, light brown eyes unbelieving. "…Right."

It wasn't said with animosity, or sarcasm. But somehow that one word and his behavior were starting to set Jane off, as she continued to pick with increasing speed.

"It's just," he continued, uncertain but still seemingly _determined_ to press her buttons, "when you mentioned your sister bef—"

" _Don't!_ Just, _don't._ "

He stopped, as if he'd been electrically shocked. "…I'm sorry."

Jane just scowled, feeling a vein in her temple throb. But she simply continued trying to get that door open, ignoring his apology and just wanting to open this damn thing. And then maybe she would just get the _fuck_ out of here, away from kids who reminded her of deceased siblings, away from unborn babies who had a dime's chance of surviving out in this place, away from clueless yet nice guys who just honestly wanted to check if she was doing okay...

…

…

…She sighed, anger sizzling away.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm the one who keeps bringing her up, after all."

Luke blinked. "Oh…um. Well, uh, it's all right," he said. "Sometimes we need to talk about those kindsa things…"

"Yeah…"

It was an invitation to say more, but Jane wasn't biting. She barely knew the guy after all. What right did he have to hear more about her past, when she barely knew anything about him?

The silence stretched on, broken only by the small metallic noises she made of the nail file in the lock.

Minutes passed, until…

"Can I give it a try, maybe?"

Jane glanced at him skeptically, wondering how much experience the goody two-shoes really had in lock-picking. Seemed a guy like him would never have the _need_ to in the first place.

"And what exactly, pray tell, do you know about picking locks?"

Luke looked at her, eyes a bit wide. He coughed, trying to recollect himself. Though they were both kneeling awkwardly, he straightened his back a bit, as much as he could without falling over, though his posture wobbled a bit in the process. "Well, I'll have you _know,_ that I, uh…um. I really know…very little about the craft, actually," he finished pathetically, like a majestic hot air balloon that had punctured and started to shrink right before her eyes.

Jane chuckled softly. This golden-boy was ridiculous. He was honest though, and a laugh; she gave him that.

"How did _you_ learn this stuff?" he asked, and though Jane caught the poor guy's desperation to change the subject, she pretended not to notice. She did smirk just a little though.

She shrugged, hands still on the lock. "I never really did, formally anyway. Just tried it a few times, and got it to work." She shot him a little sly look, lowering her voice just a smidge. "Though, I may or may not have used to break into my parents' liquor cabinet, back in the day," she whispered conspiratorially, bragging ever so slightly.

Luke laughed at that. "You? Steal booze? I never woulda thought it," he said, laughter tinkling. "I betcha threw the craziest parties with all that!"

Jane just gave a small smile to that, though it was laced with something else…

She had attended plenty of ridiculous parties of course, but she had never tried throwing her own at her parents' place, those years before she'd moved out. Pissing off her asshat of a step-dad was something she could've done as a _job_ she was so good at it, and throwing a party like that was just asking for him to…well… _ughh…_ It was especially bad after her idiotic glass-eating incident, and he'd trod on a lone piece of glass from that rum bottle—that no one had seemed to be bright enough to clean up properly of course—right after Jane'd had to be rushed to the hospital herself. He and her mom had had to go to the ER _again_ to get stitches for him, and though they were just a few floors away, of course they hadn't bothered to stop by to see her. She shouldn't forget though that at the time, her mom (at least) had been working double-shifts, because impromptu hospital visits weren't cheap when you didn't have health insurance…Still, barely anyone had visited her in that lonely hospital room, and though when Jane got back home, Jaime had given her a cute crayon-and-marker get-well card and the younger girl had squeezed Jane in the tightest embrace she could manage, the parental units of course hadn't let Jaime visit Jane at all while she was at the hospital…and that had been _hard_ , to say the very least…

Luke noticed her prolonged silence, and how her tinkering on that metal latch had slowed. "Or y'know, maybe you didn't. Parties are overrated anyway," he said quietly, trying to catch her eye.

"It's not that," she said faintly.

"Well what is it then?"

Jane frowned at the implied impatience with her answer, feeling her jaw lock, eyes still glued to the bolt. She couldn't really speak right now even if she wanted to. _It's nothing_ , _Luke,_ she thought. _Nothing at all…_

But luckily she didn't have to speak when a different blessed sound reached their ears instead.

 _ **Click**_ **.**

It was the most satisfying thing Jane had heard in a long time.

The two looked at each other wordlessly, as Jane finally removed that opened lock, swallowing. The two lifted the door, together.

And inside was…a gift shop.

* * *

"Looks like they used to sell souvenirs here…"

Jane found her voice. "…Yeah. But only books and things…"

Damn. Well there went any good chance of finding some food in here. But at least there was shelter from the wind and cold.

The floor was littered with old newspaper clippings and other papers, and it seemed some of the ceiling tiles had fallen on to the floor as well. Man, this place was really falling apart…The shop seemed to sell posters of figures from the Civil War, as well as history books and informative guides on the surrounding area. And then there were some odd decorative plates with Civil War prints on them. Man, some people must've really loved history, but she never knew anyone who'd ever want to buy plates with fricking faces of Robert E. Lee and Ulysses S. Grant on them. People could be so strange.

"Hey, look at the art on these plates!"

…And it looked like one of those strange people was right here with her. Oh boy…

"Dang, this one's just like the classic paintin' done by Louis Guillaume!"

"…Gwee-law-oo, _who_?"

"The artist! He did the original painting that's seen here in a smaller version…I mean clearly the theme of union is seen when Guillaume had painted the two opposin' generals sittin' together at _one_ table, rather than at two _separate_ tables, showin' that the Civil War was over and that the two were tryin' to bring things together again, rather than pullin' things apart. And shoot, the detail's so fine; this ain't even a print! It's a copy, but it's still hand-painted! Well, how do you like that…"

The fan-gasming guy continued to stare at the little plate and talk to himself a bit, while Jane just looked on, fighting the urge to back away slowly.

Instead, she looked around the room, checking for anything useful. The cash register seemed like a good place to start. Behind it there was a little flag of the United States, and a small waste bin on the floor with some crinkled-up candy bar wrappers, but no signs of any actual candy anywhere. Great. She could just imagine whoever worked here chomping on candy bars, whiling the day away. Working here, they must have been bored out of their mind.

"And look at this plate! What a _piece!_ "

Jane couldn't help but smirk, shaking her head. Or maybe the employees were like Mr. Plate back there.

She moved on, looking at some of the books across the room. They were just a bunch of historical titles, like _Fields of Honor: Pivotal Battles of the Civil War_ and _Eyewitness to the Civil War_. Maybe the group—well, not including herself as there was no doubt she'd be leaving—could use these to fuel a fire later; they sure as hell had no need for books like these now. She picked up one of them, named _More Damning than Slaughter: Desertion in the Confederate Army_ and leafed through it. It had some pretty strong language condemning the deserters of the armies from that time, and how the author thought all deserters should have been outright _killed_ for leaving, even if they had had good reasons for going…Jane almost threw the book away from her in her haste to get it back on to the shelf. They could burn that one first…

"Not a savory subject to ya?"

For the second time that day, Jane whirled around, eyes wide. There was Luke, silly Civil War plate in hand, looking at her with an odd expression on his face…Jane couldn't read it; it just had such an alien look to it…

"It's…uh. It's nothing," she said, nonplussed. "…Jeez, you sure like to sneak up on people, don't you?"

"Well, I don't know about that. I'm a mite clumsier than I'd like to admit," he admitted with a small smile.

"Psh. I can believe that."

"Heey!"

She grinned, but soon became serious again. "Did you find anything?"

"Huh? Oh, um." He half-turned to the room, as Jane watched him. "Nah, not really. The cupboards just have papers in 'em, and there's not really much else of use that I've seen so far…Not unless you're a fan of history stuff," he said, putting the plate down, the lightest tinge of scarlet creeping over his neck and face. Jane couldn't help but feel the corners of her mouth rise. He must have realized that he'd been going on and on, explaining the intricacies of 19th century painting techniques, only to realize that his audience had vanished into thin air. Or at least, that his audience had moved to the other side of the room, and had been completely ignoring him.

"Well I'm not really, unfortunately," she said, fighting the urge to smile again.

Luke on the other hand was unafraid to show off his goofy grin. "Well I s'ppose that's just an odd passion of mine," he chuckled. Jane smiled too. She was actually beginning to like this silly oaf more and more.

"You've got some passion, all right," she said, rolling her eyes. "Hell, maybe you can use that _'_ passion' to help us find something useful here," she suggested.

"Very well, m'lady!" Luke agreed, bowing low. "Your wish—or uh, your _suggestion_ —is my command."

Jane just gave him an exasperated smile, arms crossing and eyebrows starting to raise in her trademarked _Really?_ look. But he paid no mind. Luke moved back over to the display cases again like a big old bloodhound, complete with the same ridiculous look on his face that she'd seen on those droopy dogs, as if he was sniffing out some mysterious clue that only he could find.

Seeing him pause there, Jane moved closer. "So what have you found, O Great Detective?" she teased, only to see Luke's face full of far less humor than before.

Oh no. What'd happened?

"Luke?"

He looked up at her, and Jane could see something in him. Something that looked so familiar, as she saw the same thing whenever she happened to glimpse her own reflection these days.

"We, uh…" Luke swallowed. "We used to play with these kinds of toy soldiers here. Used to collect 'em as well. Me an'—an' Nick…"

Jane found herself looking at those soldiers, just as he was. They were made of tin as if they were made in the 1800's, and so different from that life-size statue they'd seen outside; these weren't as well detailed and the faces all could've been blank as far as she could tell, as they held no emotion. Only a couple inches or so high, a thin layer of dust fell upon them, masking the vibrant colors they once seemed to have, though those colors already had faded greatly from age. They were all lined up, muskets and bayonets pointing at an invisible, unknowable enemy. They were lined up like the good obedient soldiers they were—lined up, only to die…

"Our school actually'd bring us out to field trips to places like this. Nick'd always be so bored, but he'd get a li'l kick outta these guys." He nodded weakly to the tin soldiers. "We'd always get a couple as souvenirs…"

Jane frowned. She knew she was really shit at this, but she had to say something…if only to let him know that he wasn't…alone…

"Luke, I'm—I'm sorry about Nick," she said softly.

The man just bowed his head, eyes never leaving those little tin soldiers. "Did he—" he cleared his throat. "Um I mean, you might not know but…did he…suffer?"

Jane's frown deepened. There had been a clear and nasty bite right on Nick's neck, as well as the bullet hole in his chest. There had been a pool of fresh blood up and down that trailer park playground where Jane and Clem had taken out those walkers, where Nick must have met his doom. And then of course there was the mess that had been Clem's attempt to put Nick out of his misery—his jaw and bits of his scalp flying everywhere...She had to stop herself from grimacing. If Luke had witnessed that…he probably wouldn't be holding himself together as much right now. But—

"I…I don't think so…"

What was the point of Luke knowing any of that anyway.

His eyes met hers again, holding her gaze as he searched her face. Feeling almost like a doe caught in headlights, Jane couldn't shy away from those warm russet eyes—though she wasn't sure how long they could possibly stay so warm, after everything…

But Luke had seen what he'd wanted to in her expression. He nodded, swallowing miserably.

"All right…"

The normally upbeat man couldn't do it; he turned away. She saw right through it—right through his masquerade, right through his guise—she could spot a look like that a mile away and knew exactly what it meant, because…because she knew she'd used it oh so many times herself. Trying to reel everything in. Doing your best to not let everything leave you in a mighty maelstrom….it made her stomach contract to see him struggle so. Jane reached out unsurely, a hand suspended over Luke's shoulder, but she couldn't bring herself to even touch him.

"Jesus," he shuddered, his back still to her, and she whipped her arm back to her side before he noticed anything. "I think—I think I need to get some air…and I'd better get going soon too."

Jane swallowed as the man made his way back outside, wobbling slightly, leaving Jane in the shadow of that place. She stood there for a bit in the dark, watching as he disappeared out of sight. Her eyes wandered back to the soldiers, a few of which had been knocked askew by him.

 _Fuck_.

Normally she wouldn't do anything. Normally she'd just let a person stand out there, do their own thing, work through it themselves. Normally she knew that sometimes people needed their space, just as she did. Normally she wouldn't bother, because normally, why would she care?

But _fuck_ if this wasn't normal. So she went. She didn't know what she'd say; she didn't know what she'd do. But she went anyway.

* * *

There he was, back turned to Jane, leaning against that banister where she'd been herself, not too long ago.

She could've been looking into a mirror.

She came up to him, not sure what he'd say. That he didn't want her there? That she was just wasting her time? That she should just leave?

Instead he said none of those. All he did was keep watching that deserted landscape.

"Um. Can I join you?"

A half-hearted shrug of the shoulders. She took that as a, _"Sure, if you want."_

Grimacing, Jane rested against that banister herself, taking in the view that Luke had been surveying. There were brown weeds and grass poking through the earth below them, patches of ice and snow dotting the ground between the supports of the deck and that cold muddy stream, evergreen trees in the distance concealing the town Clem had spotted before. There wasn't a single walker in sight.

Glancing at Luke, she took note of those auburn eyes of his, staring off into the distance, his face paler than before too, those bruises even more pronounced. His brows were low, mouth set in a thoughtful frown. She could almost hear what he was thinking—she knew the same thoughts went through her own mind all too often; that was for sure.

She knew she should say something. She even had some words in mind, but they were just stuck in her throat, teetering on the edge of jumping for freedom, or remaining safely hidden from the world…

Jane's hands fidgeted, hanging over that banister. She was probably just making things worse. Maybe she should just cut her losses, leave Luke, and leave the group altogether right now. It probably would be easiest this way...She almost moved to leave, but the sleeve of her leather jacket was caught by a splintered beam beneath her. Even the wood holding them up was falling apart, just like the group around her…

But just then, Luke's voice sounded in that desolate, solitary place.

"Do you…do you ever think you're becomin' someone you're not? Or someone you don't want to be? Like the world just keeps testin' and _testin'_ you, and you just want it to quit?"

There was a long pause as Jane swallowed, hard. "Yeah. All the time."

The two stood shoulder to shoulder, heads tilting up to the cloudy sky, the dying sun starting to streak the constant gray with a glimmer of color for once. Intense oranges, vivacious pinks, inky purples…she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen so many hues in the sky like that but…it had been a long time. She wished the colors wouldn't slip away as fast as they were…It was almost like she was looking at a painting, something too beautiful to be real in a world as impossible and jaded as this. But there it was, all the same…

And then, there was Luke. His side was warm where it slightly touched her side, muscles beneath the cloth of his shirt firm but yielding. She had forgotten what it was like to feel a soft touch without a malicious hint to it like that; it had been so long. It just…felt nice there, relaxing, without having to worry about the walkers, and with someone looking out for her…But the thing about standing still was, when the body didn't wander, the mind did…

"You said…" Jane started, voice scratchy. She cleared her throat. "You said you couldn't forget it, how you were the first one on that trailer roof. How you went before anyone else…You couldn't forget how you were…" She wanted to continue, but there was an acrid taste in her mouth, burning her insides, yet it was something necessary to stay alive…

Luke glanced at her, expression forlorn. "Yeah?"

She evaded the question, but continued. "I can't forget it for me either," she confessed. "Even though I try to, it's just…" For the first time since she came out there, she looked into those honest eyes, trying to hold his gaze, but couldn't for long.

"We learn from our mistakes, y'know," he said, sounding as if he was reassuring himself as much as her.

"…I'm not always sure they _are_ mistakes."

Luke frowned, deep lines darkening his brow.

"We can't forget it," she repeated, shaking her head at the ground. "But…" she looked at him, and there was something else in her now mingled with the sorrow, something _desperate_. "…We can help each other try to…"

* * *

Blood. Rotted and clotted. Brown and broken with age.

Death. Decaying and sickening. Falling apart and putrid.

Life. Leached of color and expression. Yet yearning and hoping.

There wasn't much to live for anymore. The only thing—the only thing, _they say,_ was for others. A connection, no matter how trivial or small, was still something when compared to nothing. But to _feel_ that connection, not just to possess it fleetingly, but to also _physically_ feel it? Well that was almost something else entirely.

But nothing was ideal.

There was no such thing as " _true love_." And there was no such thing as love at first sight. All there was, was _passion_. Either it was there, or it just plain as hell _wasn't_.

It could be something simple. Or something beyond comprehension. But it never was something that could be explained, just _felt_.

But more often than not, it meant nothing. Just, _nothing…_ right?

Jane had done just that with Troy numerous times before, even if he was the most _unbelievable_ motherfucking son of a bitch _asshole_ , and that didn't even begin to cover it. But what could she do. She had had to get out of there somehow, and she'd had no other viable options but to dance around him like a damned caged bird forced to do its courting ritual. At the very least the bastard was able to swipe plenty of condoms, some of which she'd by happy accident held on to. But she should've known; she should've fucking _known_ such a shithead like himself would be so damn "creative" with his fucked-up _fantasies_. Although uncertain at first, he soon came to realize he basically had someone completely _willing_ now. So why not _use_ her to his full advantage?…She had gone along with it, valuing her future freedom perhaps more than her dignity for too long, making her feel like a damned-to-hell prostitute, leaving her to wonder late at night after Troy brought her back from his room, what her life had finally come to. And then that last time, _Jesus_ that last time…he was cocky that night—no pun intended _ughh_ —and just plain had gone too far…he had wanted to do something _"new,"_ and there was no question they'd do it, since _he_ was the one "in control," or at least the one with the gun and crossbow lying on the table right next to the cot, mocking her when she wasn't even wearing any clothes. And when she'd refused him that night, and he _just_ _**kept**_ —well…He sure as _HELL_ had deserved what was coming to him.

But that wasn't even the worst thing about it all. The _worst_ thing was that Troy, being the idiotic bastard he was, actually thought they were _together._ Them! _Together?!_ Ohh, brought together by the apocalypse in a "romantic" _heated_ relationship, he thought he'd _sweep_ her off her swooning feet and they'd ride off into the sunset while unicorns vomited rainbows in the background. And in the meantime, he'd _show her_ what it meant to be with a guy as "great" as him…whether she _wanted_ to be shown or not. She had played a part in the masquerade sure, and had let him think what he had wanted—to a point—but that was for survival's sake. Jane knew guys like him, even from before. As long as things were going _their_ way, everything was perfect, never mind what their partners were actually thinking…

But some guys weren't the same. Like Luke? Holy hell, he was a _completely_ different ball game. At least, it looked that way. His eyes had seemed kind, and he'd been through some of the same things—well, a _fraction_ of the things that she had—but she couldn't trust him. There was too much supposed _goodness_ in him; he was too sheltered, warm and cozy for a good long while and on vacation in a fucking _cabin_ , while she? She'd been out in the cold for months, sleet and ice forming on her like a cruel armor. She'd seen how _intact_ he still was the moment he'd first shown up, beaten and bloody yes, but with a still unbattered will, morals still firmly in place though his body had been knocked askew. He'd come back to Howe's and gone through that beating all just to save his friends; he was just _that_ wholesome…well, that's what it seemed like anyway. How could a guy still really _be_ that decent these days? How could _anyone?_

Nevertheless something told her he was the real deal. Still if he somehow miraculously, _was_ that virtuous, she was afraid that not only would he have to learn the hard way that he couldn't _stay_ good in a world like this, but she was afraid…she was afraid that his goodness would be his downfall. He seemed too perfect for this world, almost too unreal himself…

But that didn't stop her. Didn't stop either of them. The frenzied removal of garments, the desperately searching, _warm_ hands despite the bittering cold, the readying of one for the other, and finally the familiar joining of two to become _one_ …they were only separated by the thinnest yet most necessary latex between them, courtesy of Howe's, but they could still _feel_ each other, oh _yes_. Her body told her it was _incredible_ , as per usual. But of course, it was all just a hoax, just the satisfaction of a primal _need_. A desperate need to fulfill this illusion that she was in fact _not_ alone. Yet, the illusion…the _delusion_ …wasn't true. She shut her eyes tighter, pulse starting to drum in time as they moved, _together.._.

He was holding her, _there_ with her, and yet he was not. No one was ever truly _with_ her anymore. Those hands may as well have been a ghost's…

…But they weren't. He was impassioned, that was true, as she was sure he hadn't done this for a while. And though he was mesmerized by those parts of her female anatomy he must've not seen for some time, he also looked **to** her. To see how she was doing, to wonder why she was barely making a sound, even if her body automatically moved, knowing what to do. So he really _hadn't_ done it for a while—if he had, he'd known you _couldn't_ make a sound for fear of someone, dead or alive, hearing you, just like at Carver's. Still, Jane could see the confusion, plain on Luke's face.

It was an odd change. So often the guys she'd get with would just go out of their way to make sure they just got the most pleasure that they could, without giving her much of a passing glance—unless said glance was for her body. Not like she cared; she treated them the same way. It was just a mutual agreement, was all. A simple transaction. A "I scratch your back, you scratch mine" kind of thing. But no one had to really be _too_ too concerned about the other. Just the receiving was fine enough.

And yet, and _yet_ … inadvertently looking into Luke's face, and seeing what looked like worry there, there was the tiniest part of her that dared to think differently, that dared to think she and Luke had maybe connected on some level. It was the same tiny part of her that still believed in the _stupid_ rom-coms she had seen as a _stupid_ kid, that still believed in _stupid_ happily-ever-afters, but… **no**. Man, _fuck_ Disney. Fuck them so hard. She just wanted to take that naïve part of her and strangle it to death. She didn't need that wide-eyed _bullshit_ and she could've done without it her entire life, before being let down over and over and _over_ that _no_ , if you wish upon a star, your dreams _don't_ fucking come true. She should know, and she _should've_ known…

Luke slowed to a stop then, sensing something was up.

"Is somethin' the matter? Shit, I haven't done this for a while; sorry if I'm a bit uh, rusty…"

At that, Jane could've burst out laughing, though she didn't. Of all the things to be worried about, he was worried about _performing_. Damn, he was such a sap…but then so was _she_ , goddammit.

"It's fine," she lied. "Keep going, ya pussy. And don't hold back."

His uncertainty melted away, replaced by a small smirk. "Wow. _You're_ callin' _me_ the pussy?"

She looked back at him, taking in his hunky chest before again meeting his eyes, a genuine grin starting to spread across her face. Oh. This was _fun_. "Yup."

"Well." He bent down to her face, seemingly about to kiss her, but moved to her ear at the last second, facial hair scratching slightly as he spoke, slow and tantalizing. " _I'll show_ _ **you**_ _."_

And he did.

Ohh, he _did…_

* * *

There is a certain beauty about intercourse during the apocalypse, compared to before. It is, in so many words, an escape, a letting go of everything, to just block out the tremendous piles of _shit_ and pretend for a moment that things are _okay_ , with hands coaxing oblivion as they whisper down backs. As goose bumps rise, forget about deceased loved-ones, about sins committed, about lows that have been sunk to. Ignore suppression as small moans _ache_ to escape, and _do_. Blank out the _rotted_ , the _putrid_ , the _falling_ _apart_ so as to not care; to remember the _lifeblood_ still running through your _own_ veins instead; to be _selfish_ , just for some simple _stupid_ meaningless _pleasure_ in a world devoid of it…

They kept going until they couldn't anymore, and until they reached that short blessed summit—that short respite, where she imagined for a moment that the world wasn't more dead than _alive_ , that the people around her weren't slowly going **crazy** , that the sky _could_ be more blue than _**gray**_ , that there wouldn't be the smell of death EVERYWHERE, that people like Luke would _LIVE_ , that she might be forgiven one day for all that she'd _**DONE**_ _,_ that her loved ones weren't all _**GONE, GOD!**_

And then it was suddenly over. She was back again, still glowing, and heart still drumming. But the sound of the dank cold stream outside and the familiar smell of death slowly crept back in. Into the room, into their minds, into their lives…

...

...

...

...

...

But _damn_ , it had been good while it lasted.

* * *

 _A/N_

 _Ha. Well, that happened lol._

 _So this is basically my response to people who have no idea how Luke and Jane could have gotten it on in "Amid the Ruins" lol. I wanted to show the emotion behind the actions the characters took here, and I hope it came across as more than just a story with sex in it. I was reluctant to dub this story a "romance" as it's not really-it's just the very, very beginnings of one (really it's more the beginning of the friendship between Jane and Luke.) But in the end I realized that the "romance" title was appropriate lol. Also, I'm personally a huge Jane fan and a huge Juke fan, and I so wished that Luke could've survived so that Jane and Luke could've been able to learn more from each other and grow from each other, while possibly pursuing a cautious relationship together._

 _So yes. Please do let me know what you think, as it did take me quite a while to finally get this out. Thanks! :)_


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